


L for Lies

by Doctorinblue



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Gen, Hopeless Henry, Radar to the rescue
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-13
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-04-22 11:38:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 878
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14307843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Doctorinblue/pseuds/Doctorinblue
Summary: Henry had to do something to shut Trapper up (and Radar becomes an all too willing accomplice)





	L for Lies

Radar cleared his throat. Again. The noise pounded alongside the pulse in his head and Henry bit back a groan. How could Radar be up and walking after that party? Taking the last swig of coffee (if anything in his camp qualified as coffee) he met Radar's eye at last. He regretted it at once.

"What is it, Radar?"

Henry slowly pushed his chair back. He stood up, the change in elevation making his head and the room spin. Hunching over, he shuffled his way to the kettle. Giving it a shake, he sighed. Damn. Empty. He glanced back at Radar, that folder still in his hand. Normally, he would have already known that the coffee needed more coffee. Normally, he would have been filling it, not just standing there, shifting his weight all around. It must be bad news.

"Just give it to me, " Henry said, putting his mug on the corner of his desk and reaching out for the folder.

Radar slipped it into his hand, flopped his own back to his side. Henry flipped the folder open. He'd been expecting new orders. Or perhaps something, several somethings, that needed to be signed in triplicate. Short supplies, too many casualties, all the things he'd come to expect from a hesitant Radar and a mystery folder. Instead, he found drawings. The stack thick and neat and tucked right up to the back of the folder.

He flipped through them, his sluggish brain struggling to come up with an explanation. Or words. Anything, actually. He glanced at Radar, back down to the brightly colored stick family.

"They're nice, Radar. Real nice."

Radar blinked at him, though Henry very seriously doubted he had the ability to surprise him. 

"You don't remember?"

Henry slowly slid back into his chair. He ached bone deep. His mouth felt like a desert he'd never visited - and why would he if he had the sample pack after a night of drinking - and he couldn't begin to connect the dots Radar clearly thought he'd drawn.

"Just explain," he said, flipping the folder closed. "Slowly and quietly."

"They're yours, sir," Radar said, moving around the side of the desk. 

"Mine," Henry repeated. He tapped his fingers against the folder.

"Your family," Radar said, and when Henry looked up Radar smiled, a little too pleased with himself. "Your daughters."

"I don't have daughters, Rada-"

Oh. No. Trapper. He'd been insufferable. Three drinks in and at least two dozen pictures of smiling children had tugged at Henry. Hawkeye, too. Hell, the entire tent felt emptier full of Trappers pride. He'd had to say something to make it stop. He just hadn't needed to breathe life into to imaginary children of his own.

Cobwebs knitted themselves back together much faster than he would have liked. 

"I didn't."

Radar looked down at him. 

_Ah, hell_

"I've got to stop drinking," Henry said, rubbing his hands down his face. He flipped the folder open again. 

Blind hope and the loss of a few brain cells made him want to believe they couldn't have remembered his stupidity. Surely blackout drunk had to count for something? But Radar remembered, and if Radar remembered it'd come to light again eventually if only shame him. 

"You drew these?"

"Yes, sir."

"Millie and-?" Henry said, scratched at his two day beard. 

"Molly and Jane, sir," Radar said. 

Radar reached out and tapped at the pages, labeled with sloppy handwriting on the first few of the drawings. For him, of course. Their own fake father shouldn't be forgetting their names.

"Right."

"I stayed up all night," Radar said. "I thought we could start with these. They get better as they go down."

Henry flipped through them again. Sure enough, progress. Lines grew straighter and colors matched more and more. Where he'd even gotten the supplies for this project, Henry didn't want to know.  
"Molly and Jane," he repeated, slowly, running his fingers over their names. 

Surely he should just come clean. Shower and shave and go admit that he'd made up two people so Trapper would shut his trap. They could all laugh at his drunken antics again. But, truthfully, he liked the way it made it feel. Kids. He looked at Radar, already like a son to him, even if he'd probably never admit it sober. No, he'd keep them. All of them.

Henry stood up again, walked over to his board. His headache began to recede and though his mouth still felt like the inside of a baseball mitt, he didn't mind the feeling quite so much. He pulled out the first two pictures, pinned them up with too much pride.

How he'd ever explain this back home, he didn't begin to know. 

"Our secret, Radar," he said. 

Radar took the folder back, flipped it shut. He headed for a filing cabinet, yanked it open and slid the folder in. Henry didn't keep track, the less he knew about his lie the better.

" And Radar," he said, heading back for his desk.

"You're welcome, sir," Radar said, heading for the doors. 

Henry smiled, settled into the chair, leaned forward for his mug. 

"I'll get the coffee."

The doors swung shut behind him, and Henry's eyes couldn't quite leave the pictures. A father. Him. 

He grinned.


End file.
